


Yours

by themantlingdark



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 21:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16900080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: Thor walks in on Loki while Loki is having very fond thoughts of Thor. Smutty relationship fluff.





	Yours

The sun was halfway up the sky when Loki woke. Midgard’s wan blue bleared at him in a way that made him want to rub his eyes. Instead he shut them again, rolled to his left, slung his arm over empty air, and tipped unexpectedly onto his stomach. His pulse leapt from the shock of the fall, safe and slight though it had been, and from the empty bed against his front. 

_ He’s left me.  _

Always his first thought, swiftly brushed aside, but still so stubborn. It seemed inescapable. Three months. Nearly no time at all by their standards, he had to admit. Long enough for his sleeping body to slip into a habit, but not long enough for his waking mind to leave one. 

 

Thor had gone away yesterday, early in the morning, along with all his friends. Another mess with a machine. Thor had tried to be reassuring, but the fact that everyone was going meant it was no small thing. The last big thing had put Thor so near death it had killed something in Loki. A thing no one missed. But it left him feeling like an oyster pried from its shell. Now everyone knew. They saw what he had for so long hidden from himself, and saw it as soon as he’d seen it. By some mercy, it frightened them. Broke with one of their most widespread conventions. They kept their distance. 

 

It probably helped that what didn’t kill Thor really did seem to make him stronger. More clever, more patient, and more prepared. When he was well again it was almost obscenely so. He looked younger, but larger.  More dangerous. Loki thought of things that molted. Snakes shedding their skin, slithering out of the papery husk as something smoother, longer, able to strike faster, and armed with more venom. It was only an illusion of immortality, but it often proved an effective deterrent nonetheless.

 

After three months of Loki’s instruction in magic, Thor had made up the loss of Mjolnir by learning to better wield the sky, which was far worse than the hammer had ever been. It covered all the realm and was beyond anyone else’s power to control or to strip from Thor. It left Thor looking more like a god than Midgard was ready for, which left Loki feeling quite at ease. Earth’s people clung tighter to their myths than those of any other realm. Gods were things that hushed them and stilled them and dropped them to their knees. 

 

Loki wondered if they knew how warranted that reaction was. How inescapable, when it came to Thor. The shock of that face. Something that never went away--or lasted at least a thousand years, which was as good as forever to a human life. The shock of Thor’s body was blunted by armor, for which Loki was twice grateful--protection came with the perk of keeping Thor’s skin away from eyes that weren’t Loki’s own. The shock of Thor’s strength was either a delight or the death of you, depending on which side of it you found yourself on. Loki never guessed that Thor had gone easy on him all those centuries, but seeing Thor fight for the last six years told him how blind he’d been and how gravely he’d underestimated Thor’s patience.

 

That patience was almost a wickedness these days. Thor would keep Loki’s nerves teetering on the edge of release for hours. Playing with the tension as though tuning an instrument, deliberately missing the right note. It blurred bliss and torment in a way that made them both better, and silenced that lingering naysayer in Loki’s head who tried to claim that Thor was only interested in something easy, chasing after his own quick fun with the closest consenting body.

 

Two months ago, when Loki was alone for the first night since Thor’s recovery and he missed his brother’s hands on him, he found Thor’s practice had infected his own methods. Every time he reached that tipping point where before he would have rushed himself over the edge, he remembered the way Thor stopped, crawled up the bed, and kissed him until he was quivering and dizzy. And he remembered that it was better than the few seconds of oblivion an orgasm would bring. And he eased off. Now, whenever Loki felt like he might unravel himself, he would thrust his right hand into his hair while he pressed his left hand across his mouth and caught his lips between his fingers, tugging them and thinking of Thor’s kisses. And when the hum in his blood had faded to a dull roar, he’d rub his thighs, cock, and belly again while he begged his absent brother  _ Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Thor, please, don’t stop _ . 

 

It had become his favorite lie.  _ Don’t stop. _ He  _ did _ want Thor to stop these days, at least twelve times, if not more--as many times as Thor was willing to tease him with--before Thor finally listened and kept his fist tight and moved it faster until Loki jerked and sobbed and sent little jets of semen spraying out across his skin.

 

Loki shifted his hips to let his cock straighten out where it was crushed against the mattress. He thought of calling out to Jarvis and asking for an update on Thor’s activities and whereabouts, but the possibility of the news being bad, perhaps unbearably so, kept him quiet. If his world had ended, he wanted to prolong his ignorance for as long as possible. It would keep Thor alive that little bit longer, if only in his mind. 

 

Loki didn’t like his line of thinking and quickly spun back to the one that had preceded it, where Thor was safe and warm and watching him. Not just watching but seeing: Loki had tried to fake Thor out the first few times they were in bed together and had failed. He’d tried to conceal how close he was to coming, thinking if he kept his face smooth and his breathing even, Thor would stroke his cock too long and make him finish sooner than he’d meant to. But Thor had always stopped in time and switched to running his hands over Loki’s breast and belly, or kissing his thighs, or sucking bruises onto his throat. Loki still wasn’t sure what the giveaway was. He wondered whether or not Thor would tell him if he asked.

 

The blankets on this side of the bed smelled like Thor’s skin and the pillow held the scent of his hair. Loki pressed his face into it and drew a deep breath while he curled his hips and drove his cock into the mattress. The sheets had grown warm beneath him now and the bed felt less lonely that way, as though Thor had left only a moment ago and Loki was merely marking his brother’s place, keeping it from getting cold while he was away. 

 

He ground his hips into the bed again and arched his back afterward out of habit. Normally when Loki was in this position, Thor was behind and above him, kissing him and petting him and nuzzling between his cheeks while Loki clenched to keep them pressed together. Loki did this not because he wanted to deter Thor’s lips and tongue, but because he loved to feel Thor fight for it; to know Thor wanted it. 

 

But the room around Loki was empty now, and the position was a stronger reminder of Thor’s absence than he’d anticipated.    
  
He rolled onto his back and felt the drag of cotton against his cock and the way it stuck just faintly where the head was wet. He wished he hadn’t wasted it on the sheets. Those first few drops were always so slick. Thor would catch them with the pad of his thumb and smear them across the slit and down below the head to that little arrow of skin that made Loki twitch. Thor’s face was always smooth as he did it, but still smiling somehow. Calm and focused. In his element. Loki could never look away. 

 

Without Thor’s face before him now, Loki didn’t want to see. He shut his eyes, kicked the blankets down to the foot of the bed, and tried to think of where to start. So often things between them began in some hazy space where rest and affection curved into soothing and sex without entirely rounding a corner. Urgency without rush. Thor was, occasionally, in a hurry to begin, but once he’d begun he showed little interest in ending. Part of it was the trick of Midgard’s short rotation, playing with Loki’s sense of time, making the days short and the nights shorter so that their spells in bed together often spanned dark and light. But no one Loki had met on any realm had ever drawn anything out as long as Thor did, regardless of the local clock. The pace of Loki’s heart remained more or less constant, and Thor was never finished with him in less than six thousand beats. More often the count ran to two or three times that number. 

 

Loki didn’t have that sort of patience for himself today. He hoped to bring himself off as swiftly as possible and fall back asleep until his brother came home again.

 

He ran his palms down his breast and over his belly. Gripped the edge of the bowl made by the pelvis. Slid his fingertips into the creases at the insides of the thighs where his skin was always hot. Cupped his balls with his left hand and fisted his prick with his right. Here he took a quick peek to see what state he was in. On finding he was a bit dry, he ran his fingers up the underside of his cock as he braced the top with his thumb and drew up more liquid. He watched the shiny spot at the tip of his prick swell with each drag of his fingers. When he’d teased out a plump round bead, he closed his eyes, crushed it with the pad of his third finger, and painted himself with the droplet the way Thor would have done, with light, tickling touches that swirled and looped back on themselves in a tiny figure eight. 

 

When that fun had quite literally dried up, he took his cock in a tight fist and worked it fast, moving his hand in short strokes that stayed near the head. He slipped into his new habit of begging his brother and whispered, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Thor, please, please,” to the empty room. He knew the touch was his own, and he resented it, for it always seemed strangely bisected and diluted now compared to Thor’s touch--Loki could feel both his palm and his prick as he stroked himself, so there could be no real focus or surprises. But hearing the words was something different. Or, rather, it was something the same. The sounds were what he expected. They were what he experienced when he was with Thor: his own voice in his ear, lying and wanting. 

“Thor, please. Oh god, brother, end it, please. I can’t anymore, I’m so-”

Loki was sobbing the words with his hips arched up into the air when he heard a soft “Oh _ ”  _ that had not come from his own lips. He opened his eyes and went still.

“I’m sorry,” Thor breathed. 

 

The doors to the quarters Stark had given them slid into the wall to open and slid out again to close. It made them stronger--which Loki suspected was meant more for the safety of those outside the room than for the safety of those in it--and it made them silent.

 

“I didn’t mean to,” Thor said. “I swear. I heard you and I thought-” 

“You’re as white as milk,” Loki frowned. He hurried out of bed and across the room to his brother. “Have you been hurt?” Loki sent Thor’s armor away with magic and looked him over as thoroughly as their mother would have done. He found nothing amiss, apart from Thor’s hair, which was a bit wild and damp with rain.

“No,” Thor shook his head. “I thought someone was hurting  _ you _ . That you were calling for help. Had been calling all this time and had gotten so tired you couldn’t raise your voice.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Loki played his words back in his mind and realized that, yes, it probably did sound a bit like he was being murdered. “No,” Loki laughed, and bounced his erection under the tip of his finger as if it were a springboard. “I’m quite well.” 

“I never meant to...  _ take _ that from you,” Thor went on, gesturing helplessly from Loki’s bare body to the rumpled bed. “That wasn’t mine to see. I’m so sorry. I should have knocked-”

“Thor, I’m fine. _It’s_ _fine_. The room is _ours_. If I wanted to keep you out, I would block you.”

Thor’s face was still pale and turned up in the center, woeful and apologetic. Loki couldn’t work out whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the sight.

“Lie down,” Loki soothed, and took Thor by the elbow and ushered him to the bed. He tucked him in and settled beside him under the blankets, half draped over Thor’s front, gently rubbing his chest and belly.

 

When Thor’s cheeks had their pink back and his breathing was slow and even, Loki snorted and shook his head where it rested on his brother’s shoulder.

“ _ Not yours to see _ ,” Loki chided, amused and incredulous. “Of all the stupid things you’ve thought and said over the last thousand years, that takes the cake.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> please don't comment or repost


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